Addicted To You
by thuychan
Summary: The sky is dark, the night is young. Close your eyes, and we'll have some fun.
1. Prologue

**Spoilers**: None. AU

**Disclaimer**: Viewfinder belongs to Yamane Ayano.

**Notes**: I know that I had said in one of my earlier posts on _Beauty and the Beast_ that I was going to write this story _after_ I finish that one, but I just couldn't resist! So enjoy!

**Chapter**: 1

* * *

**Prologue**

The sky was dark, a royal blue that would have covered the earth in total darkness if not for the scatter of stars and the silver moon. It was a full moon that night, a softly glowing pearl high in the fog of wispy clouds. It hung like a constant presence in Tokyo's backdrop – silent, vigilant, and inescapable. The moon shone perfectly visible, even from the bustling lights of the city.

Deep within a seedy area, sinuously tucked into a small corner of the metropolitan city, a heavy-set man and a young boy weaved their way towards the entrance of a love hotel. The middle-aged man's face was long and drawn, his chin heavily dusted by grey whiskers, stomach slightly bulging over his belt: the look of an average salary man from a nondescript company, one who strayed little from his desk.

Sometimes, when the workload got too much, when he needed to blow off some steam, escape the ever-screeching bat that was his wife, or reward himself on payday, he would put on a suit, load his wallet, and then drive down cruising the streets until he reached a particular area nestled among the hubbub that had always catered to all his desires. It was the little niche of anonymity and willing bodies that drew him to the place.

He had decided to indulge that day after his boss had given him a raise and someone had fucking acknowledged his existence for once in that office. Plus, it was a Friday. He could sleep in the next day. After two weeks of working overtime because of a merger in process, he deserved a few hours of bliss. _It would be a night of exhaustion that he wouldn't mind_ he chuckled to himself, sipping on the remnants of his day-old coffee.

His eyes scanned around the streets at the hookers in too-tight-dresses milling about, calling out to potential customers in the passing cars, showcasing their goods. He had been a frequent visitor of the fairly new market since it first began a few years earlier, and had seen the numbers steadily rise as the months passed. The red light district was picking up speed, and the place was overflowing with those wanting to trade sex for a little bit of hard cash.

The man had always preferred virgin girls, but it was rather hard to find one to his taste in such a place, especially since all the good ones usually sell themselves at a much taller price and in higher establishments. This shabby little vendor hosted second-rated ones at best – drug junkies, disease-infested whores, broken merchandise – but unfortunately that was all that he could afford. No little darlings waiting on him tonight. But maybe if he was lucky he could spot a high-school girl roaming somewhere.

It was while looking out of the window, waiting for a red light to turn green, that he had happened to catch a glimpse of a pretty girl strolling down the sidewalk.

She was dressed rather strangely for someone trying to lure in customers. She was wearing a baggy hoodie with the hood pulled over and ratty jeans, bag slung over one shoulder. If not for his keen observation of her slender frame, he would have easily missed her to the blending of buildings behind her. Even from several feet away, the man could see the pale milky glow of her skin. It looked so damn soft.

Just the way he liked it.

He slid the window down and stuck a fat bill out, waving it around like fish bait until it caught the girl's attention, and soon she was heading his way.

Bingo.

He definitely caught a good one tonight.

The girl smoothly slipped the money from his hand and shoved it into her pocket, all the while the man peered upward to stare into large, honey colored eyes. They were gorgeous. He licked his lips. "How much?"

"How much do you have?"

"I just got a raise," the middle-aged man answered, slightly smug. "I can afford to be generous tonight, sweetheart."

"Good. All the cash in your wallet then," she replied.

Oh boy, that devilish little voice was going to be worth it. He didn't even care if he was going to end up broke. The little minx was going to be so good. He was already anticipating it, his cock hardening in his pants just from hearing her talk.

The man motioned for the girl to get in the passenger side. She slumped into the seat and then closed the car door. The light turned green and the man sped off. He looked over to see the girl pulling her hood down, exposing blonde hair. It was a pixie cut, cropped short exactly like a boy's. It created a sort of androgyny that made him unable to look away, glancing back at the road in front of him every so often to avoid crashing. Once more, the man was astounded by the beautiful creature he had bought for the night. While marveling at her from the strands of hair on her head to the tip of her toes, he noticed the slight Adam's apple that jutted out from the thin neck and confusion settled into his mind.

_What the…?_

"A high school student?" he questioned, rubbing his tired eyes to check whether he was seeing things. Nope, it was still there.

"Yeah, you got a problem with that?"

"No, no, not at all," the man reassured her. But what he had thought to be a sultry voice earlier sounded a bit lower than he had expected. That was when he glanced down to where she had dumped her school bag. His eyes widened. _No-fucking-way._

"You're…You're a boy!" he sputtered, almost swerving out of the lane. A car honked and loud swearing followed.

The girl-turned-boy glanced down at the wallet that had fallen out of his bag. It was opened to reveal the dark colored gakuran he wore in his I.D. photo. He quietly picked it up and stuffed it back inside before zipping the bag up.

"And you didn't even have to take my clothes off," came the smirk.

The man once more looked at the boy sitting across from him, debating what to do. He wasn't really into boys. At the suggestion of one of his buddies, he had done a couple of them in the past to try it out, but had found that they did not satisfy him as much as sleeping with girls did. Nevertheless, something told him that the one with him tonight just might be a break in his stride. The yellow haze of the streetlamps that fell across the boy's features illuminated the angular lines of his face, small, petite. The curve of his cheekbones and lips really stood out to him, and he couldn't wait to taste them. The man could see why he had mistaken him for a girl. Fuck it. The boy was even prettier than a girl.

The boy leaned closer to the man, weaving his arm around the man's shoulder, staring at the warring expression evident on the man's face. His lips brushed the rim of the man's ear – close, but not close enough to touch – and his hot breath fanned over the corded hair that curled there.

"I can make you feel better than any other girl you've been with," he whispered.

The man gulped. Something in the kid's voice made his dick stir again.

"So, like I said, you got a problem with it?"

The man thought about it. He really did. And found that there was only one answer he could give.

"No."

Then after a while, with several scenarios running through his head, each one hotter than the next, he bit out, "Is this your first time?" His voice was strained and the front of his pants was too tight now. God, he really hoped that it was.

The boy snickered. "You wish."


	2. Mad World

**Disclaimer**: Viewfinder belongs to Yamane Ayano.

**Notes**: This is where the real story begins…

**Chapter**: 2

* * *

**Mad World – Gary Jules**

The ocean breezes drifted pass the huge, open windows; ruffling the thin, loose drapes. The smell of sea salt and sunshine was in the air, and Akihito could hear the small waves lapping over each other below on the sand.

"Takaba-san –"

"I told you, Akihito's fine."

The doctor smiled. There was a hint of crow's feet at the corner of his eyes, and faint laugh lines trailed down his face. "And _I_ keep on telling you to call me Haru."

Akihito pouted. He really wanted to leave and take a swim instead. The room was stifling.

The doctor followed on: "As I had said earlier, understanding one's habits and routines is important in identifying problems and seeing where things went wrong. It also helps to put a person's identity and character into perspective. Since you are so enamored with going outside…" he trailed off, glancing at Akihito's dejected expression over the rim of his glasses, "let's take our session down to the beach and we can continue there."

…..

The sun had already flown over the horizon, dappling the faraway hills and valleys with golden rays. The light filtered into the room through the slit in the cheap drapes. Akihito cracked open a protesting eye and groaned. He tried to move, but discovered himself stuck under the fat man sprawled on top of him. The man's stale beer-breath fanned over his face, and Akihito turned away, disgusted.

His cell phone was ringing, muffled from inside of his school bag, and Akihito quickly shoved the insufferable lard off to reach it before it turned to voice mail. The man beside him stuttered in his snores for a bit, but didn't stir.

"Hello? Ryuu…"

"Jeezes! Akihito, I've been calling you for the past five minutes!" shouted the belligerent voice.

"I'm so sorry," Akihito threw out apologies. He was so tired that he had fainted during the third round last night, and then didn't hear the alarm on his cell phone go off this morning. He knew his body was close to the limit. "I'm running to catch the bus right now," he lied, tripping over himself to reach the bathroom for a quick shower while ignoring the stings and aches all over his body.

Ten minutes later and he was speeding down the street away from the love hotel; it looked even more washed-out and faded in the morning light. He had slipped out just when the man had woken up. He didn't want to be there when the old fart discovered that all his money and credit cards were gone.

….

"Akihito, what the heck did Ootsuka want? You took forever in there!" Ryuu questioned, a tad concerned for his friend who constantly seemed to be in trouble.

"Nothing really," Akihito replied, sitting down in his seat without trying to wince. "He just gave me a whole spiel about being late again." _He was fucking me like a dog._

"Dude, you totally came too late. All the good sandwiches are sold out," Kou commented while taking a bite of his.

"That's fine, I'm not really hungry," he said, but it sounded more like a sigh. Akihito's head slumped onto the table, one arm pillowed his forehead, and the other tightly clutched around his stomach, squeezing until perhaps the pain would overshadow the feel of his guts twisting inside.

It wasn't just from hunger. It was the over-exhaustion of school and work and hardly any sleep. It was the stress piling up around him, pushing him from all sides. It was all those rounds of sex last night with the old man's meaty hands holding him down, Ootsuka getting a quickie in right after lunch break started in the empty classroom.

God dammit, he was so tired.

"You're not going to eat?" Kou asked.

He shook his head.

He didn't even know if he could chew anymore.

"Akihito, can I borrow your math notes?" Takato asked. Everyone knew Akihito always slept in class. There were no notes. Akihito groaned. That meant he wanted to talk.

"Sure."

….

Takashi Ootsuka came up to the school's rooftop to smoke. It was drafty up there, especially with autumn coming along the way. But he needed a little nicotine in his system to even out a good fuck. As a stream of smoke blew out from his mouth, doubling his languidness after the sex with Takaba, he caught sight of said boy with another student walking into the inner courtyard. Ootsuka upturned the collar of his jacket and watched the exchange between the two.

The taller boy – Takato, if Ootsuka remembered correctly – handed Takaba a brown paper bag containing some food, and then fished out a notebook from his backpack. He was talking while the boy ate, and just as Ootsuka was about to head back inside after finishing his second cigarette, Takaba exploded in a fury and stomped off.

That little mouth was running amok as always smirked Ootsuka, and he thought back to how he had those sweet lips around his cock just moments ago. He was finishing up yet another cig when he looked down and cursed.

Shit, he was hard again.

….

"Are you sure you can't come?"

"Nope, sorry. I'm taking on an extra shift at the restaurant tonight." Akihito yanked open his locker with one hand, precariously cradling the cell phone between his ear and shoulder while unbuttoning his school jacket with the other.

"Awww! There's going to be girls there! Girls!"

"Sorry Kou, I can't. Next week?"

"Yeah, yeah, you keep saying that."

"For sure, this time."

Kou snorted on the other end of the receiver. "You keep saying that, too. Listen, Aki, stop overworking yourself, man. Not to be mean, but have you _seen_ those bags under your eyes?!"

Akihito smiled, touched at his friend's concern. "Takato said the same thing to me earlier today. Told me to stop working."

"Wish you'd take our advice for once."

Akihito stayed quiet for a minute as he slipped on the white dress shirt and donned on a bow tie, the customary uniform.

"You know I can't do that Kou, I need the money."

"Doesn't your mom give you…Fuck! Did that bastard take it again?!"

"Just go," he sighed. "Sing, dance, have fun for the both of us."

"Aki, I'm serious. You have to do something about this!"

Akihito sighed again, rubbing his temples at the little migraine starting up. "Save it Kou. Takato already gave me a whole lecture about it. I don't need another one from you. I know you guys are worried, but I can handle it."

"Alright," Kou grudgingly replied, knowing that if he pressed too hard his friend would clamp shut. However, his tone implied that it wasn't alright at all, and that the discussion was far from over. "But just so you know, karaoke's not the same without you. See you tomorrow at school."

Just as the phone call ended and Akihito was zipping up his black pants, a hand snaked out to slide underneath the hem of his shirt, fondling upwards until it reached a nipple. "Akihito," a panting voice whispered into his ear, "why don't you show me how much you appreciate me giving you this job?"

….

By the time Akihito was done with his shift, the stars had already come out. He left the restaurant from the back door, along with some of the leftovers the chef gave him, and took a moment to stare at the twinkling lights in the sky. Akihito hated the night, but he couldn't look away from the diamonds that spilled over the velvet sky. It was hardly noticeable in the city with all the high-rise buildings, but a small cracked between the restaurant and the café next door, tangled by a few cable wires that stretched from one to the other, revealed a sliver of brightness.

When he reached home, lights could be seen from outside the apartment's windows were on. His run-down neighborhood was a group of tiny apartment complexes nestled together, like overgrown trees bunched up in too tight spaces. He could see the shadow of a figure and a loud, gruff voice from the open window. The man was yelling some profanities, cursing, "I'm going to get that fucking boy a good beating!"

Akihito quietly towed away.

….

It was almost midnight when Akihito stood waiting around Sion's entrance. He tried to stand near the alley so as not to be seen by the bouncer in the front. The guy had already caught him yesterday and threatened to beat the living daylights out of him if he didn't leave, so if he saw him today, well, those muscles bulging out from under the guy's tight black T-shirt told Akihito that it was going to hurt.

He was waiting for all those fancy people in their expensive dresses and suits to leave. And then, he would leave with one of them. It happened when he tried to apply for a job at the club, but then got denied because he wasn't old enough. But the sneer on the manager's face as he raked over Akihito's torn clothes spoke volumes. While he was leaving, an old man that had come from inside the club saw him and asked for some company. The pay was good. It was even better than what he got out of that fat guy last night. And it was definitely better than three days-worth working at the restaurant.

A few older women with attendants strolled out of the club tipsy, and one of them gave him a glance-over and smiled coyly, then giggled, but left with her friends. No offers tonight. Just as he was about to head to that run-down red light district again, a hand clamped down on his shoulder, and then a fist struck against the side of his face.

He must've blacked out for a second because his vision swam and the nausea spiked; the headache from earlier ricocheted in his brain from the blow. It was like a fast-paced game to tennis, with his head as the ball.

"Brat! We warned you to leave, but you keep staying around. Bad for business that trash like you come here," a voice growled out. Punches landed on his stomach and knocked the wind out of him. It made his stomach heave and he vomited up nothing but acid. They pulled him deeper into the alley, and the blows continually rained down.

….

A guard opened the back door of the club and Asami walked out into the cool, crisp night air. He had a black coat on, the folds trailing him like a dark shadow, billowing out softly when he walked. He was about to toss the spent cigarette butt on his lips into the gutter until his eyes landed on the small lump on the ground. The slight raise of a brow directed at Kirishima commanded the man to speak.

"The boy frequently loiters in front of the club waiting for the patrons to leave, sir."

"Oh?" Asami asked, disinterested. He was about to leave, but the still figure started to move.

Asami stared down at the beaten face of the boy lying among the trash bags. Even bruised with a bleeding lip, he looked like some sort of cherub nestled there, with his blonde hair mused from the wind, straying across his face like a halo from the lamplight overhead. His pale skin faintly glowed in the light, ethereal-like. Intrigued, Asami grabbed him up by his hair, and the boy lowly groaned in pain, his arms weakly coming up to futilely pry his fingers off. He forced the boy's face up and was met with a startling view: eyes like molten lava, as if flaming pieces of coal blazoned out at him, and for some reason Asami couldn't stop staring at them. In anger and anguish, the two large orbs were beautiful, piercing him. He felt as if he had somehow been singed and his hands reflexively loosened from the boy's hair. The boy slumped down, and a small cry tore itself from his lips at the fall. Smothered by exhaustion, they turned in soft whimpers. The boy was panting slightly, and just right before he lost consciousness, Asami heard one name fell across his lips:

"Ryuu."


	3. Hurt

**Disclaimer**: Viewfinder belongs to Yamane Ayano.

**Notes**: This is a short chapter but that's because I've been busy, but I still wanted to update and give you a little tidbit before the main thing starts. I know that I haven't written in a while, but hopefully I will start to write more frequently in a month or so when all my business is out of the way. Nevertheless, please comment and review because I love to know what you all think! Enjoy.

**Chapter**: 3

* * *

**Hurt – Nine Inch Nails**

"I am aware of your sexual addiction and masochistic tendencies. However, I am also aware that you don't seem to enjoy pain as much," the doctor commented, pushing his glasses further up his nose.

Akihito avoided eye contact and settled for staring down at his lap.

The doctor continued: "You didn't have sex with men for pleasure, Akihito. And what's more interesting is that they're men. Why not women?"

Akihito sighed. "Because geezers were the only ones who wanted me."

"But you go out of your way to seek men from what I've gathered through your descriptions of your old life. You haven't mentioned anything about women at all because you have this sort of fixation on men. So let me ask again, why men? Is it because they do all the work? Take the dominant role?" The doctor gleaned closer. "Is it because of a past trauma?"

Akihito's eyes widen to extreme proportions, making them cover half his face and take on the expression of a deer in headlights.

Bingo.

….

Akihito woke up disoriented, as if his mind was on another plane from his body or like that one time a customer drugged him and he was high for the whole night. His mind was so slow and sluggish that it took a while for the pain to sink in. He first noticed it when he tried to shift his face away from the sunlight slanting in from the slit in the curtains. A sudden pain stung his neck, and when his fingers felt at the area, they came back with crusted blood. His arms weren't any better. They were still searing from massive rope burns and his muscles were sore from the feeling of being stretched for too long. Wisely, he didn't attempt to move the rest of his body. Simply from lying on the bed alone, he could feel the pain thrumming from his body and into his nerves, lighting them on fire.

It's not like he wasn't used to the situation: a stranger's room, different bed sheets, agony permeating from every pore in his body from an abusive customer. He's experienced it a couple of times before. But this time he didn't remember what had happened the night before. He had always remembered. And he had never before experienced such a pain that even breathing hurt. That was why he couldn't stop the sudden scream that escaped his lips when he tried to make it out of the bed. He collided onto the floor with his back a trail of fire.

The person had been too rough.

Akihito felt the miniscule touch of liquid rolling off his back, touched it with his fingers, and once again pulled back to reveal the stain of bright red.

That was when the bathroom door opened and a man appeared in nothing but a towel hung low on his hips and wet hair

His eyes were golden.

And Akihito remembered.

….

Leather straps with silver harnesses tightly sealed his body and stretched it open, his legs parted wide to reveal every detail. The straps were a little too tight, and Akihito remembered how he had to focus not to move or else his muscles would sear and his bones would feel like they might pop out of their sockets. It was so uncomfortable that it was difficult to breath, and it made the sudden intrusion slamming inside of him feel like he was splitting in half.

Akihito couldn't remember how much he screamed, so much that even his voice seemed to linger in the background next to the pain. But even growing hoarse, his voice wouldn't stop screaming because it hurt too much and was never-ending and the faint feel of blood dribbled down his legs and the man whose merciless organ continued to piston in and out of him didn't seem to care.

Akihito passed out within ten minutes of waking up tied to the man's bed. He was surprised he made it past five.

He remembered waking up afterwards and being hit with the metal end of the belt, where the metal post hit him with such force it dug into his skin. He screamed and blacked out again after that.

He remembered a large cock being rammed down his throat, gagging him, chocking him when the man with golden eyes suddenly came, semen squirting out of his nose and dripping down his face.

He remembered the aphrodisiac, the cock ring preventing him from cumming the whole night, the spiked vibrator messing him up all raw inside, the second vibrator making him feel like he wanted to die.

He remembered the jaw-cracking force of the blow the man dealt him when he called him a bastard. Akihito never said another word after that. Only begging "please" and "stop" and "no" and more "pleases."

He remembered the array assortment of toys shoved in and out of him, filling him. He remembered the thick urethra tube carelessly jammed inside the tip of his penis.

But the worse was the hard, bruising hands all over his body, the savage grunting voice near his ear that spoke of an excitement at seeing his pain, the set of teeth tearing at every inch of his skin, the harsh words whispering how Akihito was a little worthless slut, and the quiet laughter at the involuntary tears that fell down his face.

…

Once again the man had a sardonic expression on his face while looking at Akihito lying on the floor.

The man's gaze trailed over his body, and an unreadable expression crossed over his features. Fear struck at Akihito's heart when the man made a move to pick him off from the ground, and

Akihito flailed his limbs in a useless attempt to escape, only to be knocked down by the force of his own nausea.

He blackened out again.

Or his mind tethered somewhere between the realm of consciousness and unconsciousness. So he docilely lay still as he was carried inside of the bathroom. He vaguely remembered getting into the warm water and hands were all around him, not intrusively but gently cleaning him, and the sting of the welts on his back and the crusted blood from the bites and scrapes flaking off.

And for the first time since he started selling his body to others, he's finally willing to take Takao's advice and resolve the conflicting emotions inside of him and stop.

He didn't want this anymore.

It may as very well be the straw that broke the camel's back.


	4. Use Somebody

**Disclaimer**: Viewfinder belongs to Yamane Ayano.

**Notes**: Thanks a lot for the reviews everyone. They were greatly appreciated. I always want to know what my readers think and feedback is a help in improving my writing. I know that right now the plot is really shaky because it has a slow complicated start, but things will make more sense eventually so please stick to it!

**Chapter**: 4

* * *

**Use Somebody – Kings of Leon**

The pristine office was white, not a speck of dust on the luminescent floors. It was too white for Akihito's taste; too bare inside. Nothing was in the room except for a plush leather couch stuffed with pillows, a comfortable armchair, a low mahogany coffee table between those two, and a furnished desk where the doctor sat in his swiveling chair. All that was needed would be padded walls and Akihito could have been standing inside an asylum cell. And the reality of it was that the theory wasn't so far-fetched from the reality of the situation.

The doctor bade him in with a quick wave of his hand, and as if some force had tugged at the front of his shirt, Akihito's body jerked forward closer to the man. The doctor always looked younger than he remembered, early forties at most, and the man's bland handsomeness – which had slipped pass Akihito's notice from the initial photos he had saw of him – became more defined as he took in a better view of the man's features face to face.

Akihito slouched in the chair on the other side of the desk, a foot propped up on the other leg, and waited for the man to finish writing in the file he had under his scrutiny. No doubt it was _his_ file. After a few minutes of stewing around in his chair and waiting, the doctor finally looked up from his work. There was a hint of crow's feet at the corner of his eyes as he smiled at Akihito, faint laugh lines trailed down his face.

"Takaba-san –"

"Akihito's fine," he interjected.

"Akihito, then. You came early today." The doctor's smile deepened at having Akihito accept even that small token of ease between them.

"Yeah, well, I had a nightmare last night."

"Oh? What was it about?" he asked, motioning for Akihito to continue on as the man took off his glasses, a notepad and pen already laid out on the desk.

"It – It was about getting raped…" Akihito replied softly, eyes on his lap, hands fiddling with each other.

"Do these dreams happen often?" There was a quick scribble in his notes.

A nod.

There was more scribbling now.

"Can you describe it?"

Akihito turned his face into his lap again as he said, "It…It was about…the first time I met Asami."

"What happened? How did you meet him?"

"Not under the best circumstances, I can assure you," Akihito snorted. And then his face turned somber and contemplative again. "His goons beat me up one night while I was loitering in front of one of his clubs. Beat me up pretty good," he said as his voice slowly took on a harsh hedge at the memory of it replaying in his mind, as clear as the morning day and as sharp as the edge of a blade. "And I suppose the bastard took me to his place and then…well…" Akihito's entire attention trailed to the stainless, carpeted floor. "He raped me."

When the doctor, Haru-san, said nothing in reply, Akihito continued on, his tone half-defensive and half explaining while still staring at the floor. "It…it was one of the worst…experiences in my life."

"Worse so than when your father did it?"

Akihito shook his head, but in some agreement. It was as if he was trying to ward it all away. "I wasn't even thinking of my father when he raped me. Rather, it was as if they were the same person. I only thought about it the next morning…day…whatever, but I guess I should be grateful to the fucking bastard. He made me want to never do it again."

"Did you get what you needed from it?"

Akihito's laugh came out broken. "I didn't even get hard. It hurt so bad that I wanted to die. You could say it was like he made me stop doing it."

The man stared at him. "What would you say you feel for Asami-san?"

….

Akihito didn't know how he got back into his apartment. But apparently he was. Back in his apartment that was.

The sun was well past its way into the middle of the sky because for once the run-down apartment held a little bit of warmth inside. The dirtied curtains portrayed a burnt sienna glowing in the horizon when Akihito tried his best to crane his neck for a look. For some reason his mother's sorry-excuse for a boyfriend wasn't home, and his mom was probably still at her work, and with just the faucet water dripping for company, Akihito felt something akin to numbness and dejection. He didn't care what happened anymore because he was past the point of feeling.

He didn't even care that he was alive. He should have been dead after all. He felt as if he had died last night. And had it really only been last night? The incident felt so long ago and yet not long enough for the fright inside of him to quell even the slightest.

The golden-eyed man was nowhere in sight as well. And while those piercing eyes of his struck a sort of fear in Akihito that he didn't even know he could feel; something about them seemed familiar. They reminded him of Ryuu. But at the same time the thought was incredulous because Ryuu would never be like that terrible man.

Ryuu was so warm and kind. And Akihito unconsciously smiled at the thought of him. Memories of him flitted inside of his mind and he welcomed them as a reprieve and a relief from his fears:

Ryuu's dazzling smile that sometimes struck him dumb.

Eating lunch with him and the rest of the gang on the school's rooftop on days where the sky was so clear not a speck of cloud could be seen.

The sound of Ryuu's laughter ringing melodiously in his ears.

God, and that one time when the accidental brush of Ryuu's hand over his skin made it singe.

And so he laid there on that small miserable little cot he calls a bed, all bruised and broken and hurt, dazed and detached from reality almost to the point of tittering off the plane of consciousness, with thoughts of Ryuu playing over and over in his mind while the tears seeped down his eyelids unbidden from the pain that numbed him.

And when he closed his eyes, he didn't dream of anything at all.

…

Akihito skipped school for several days. And in those several days his mother's lover had never returned, for which he was grateful because he didn't know if he would survive if the man had come back. Akihito could have barely moved. He slept all day, ate almost nothing because he couldn't get his body to willfully get up and look for food, and the one time that he did had found out that there was absolutely no food in the house except for a few scraps in the cupboard. All expired and molding.

So he took a few sips of water from the sink tap and dealt with the nearly unbearable gnawing ache in his stomach while lying on the filthy cot. And with winter nearly there, the apartment was freezing.

But what else could he do.

He was in no physical condition or the right state of mind to go outside and use what little money he had to buy something to eat.

And when the third day rolled in, his phone began vibrating on the floor near his futon. It went unnoticed, but the ringing was insistent, and after a while, there was a muted knock on the door.

Akihito didn't stir.

The knocking sound became louder and louder until it turned into vicious banging and shouts of his name. But still Akihito didn't wake up.

….

The first thing he noticed when he woke up again was that he didn't feel nearly as bad as he had before. And that the futon felt different too. In fact, it wasn't even a futon, but rather a bed, a hospital bed, with wires stuck under his skin and drips attached to his arm.

And the second thing he noticed was the scrap of the chair, the shout of voices – Kou's and Ryuu's voice he thought – and heaviness in his head that he couldn't dislodge. And then everything came back and all of a sudden he was crying heavily, vision so blurred he couldn't see definite shapes, only smudges of colors. His hand shakily reached out and someone grasped it. He heard more running and Takato's frantic voice.

"I won't do it anymore, Takato," he cried. "I promise. I won't do it anymore."


End file.
